Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Hi, you have reached the voicemail box of Syreena Phelps. I am either working, sleeping, or too depressed to answer the phone. Leave your name, number, and a reason for me to live, and I'll get back to you as soon as I am mentally able. Thanks!
I'm trying to come up with a voicemail right now, & I can't seem to do it.
Saurya Jan 7
Between judging the good and the dead,
I lose myself in the cacophony of lies, made my men,
Amid the hustling and jostling of interests, lies and deceit
I scream!
my voice is muffled by a black cloth,
which covered eyes of Themis, now unfurled, tied my voice,
So, none can hear, my cries,
I am a man, I have a spirit, my bliss cannot live in lies and deceit!

I lose myself, split of a second,
A place where I find solace for my heart,
Split second of servitude for God,
And that is enough! To lead me away from temptations!
I look at men in blood, fresh, for petty wealth, and I see God!
I look at black coats, standing for Good and evil for wealth, and I see God!
Who am I to judge?
I see and witness unfurling of time, and my mind rests at His foot!
For all is lights and shadow!
I am at peace, being a witness of His work.
Om Tat Sat!

© Saurya 7th Jan 21
I wrote my emotions, having received an acknowledgement of my one liner, "so true, manifesting good thoughts by a judge" I ponder, as we trapped in worldly struggle, still find time to love and pray, and think good for others! what is it if not a 'prayer', and that split second of bliss, makes us see all as God, and self as witness, where happiness is in servitude!
Some imagination Dec 2018
I like being busy
There's no surprise in that,
It's the only way to survive and make the voices quiet that argue in my head.
I like being busy
It's the only way I've known,
To burry down those feelings
That keep on surfacing on their own.
I like being busy
I enjoy being burnt out
Because that's how I muffle the agony from the bleeding cut.
I don't want a moment of silence
Because that's when
The voices in my head are
The loudest.
They Mourne, they agonize, they miss,
They sympathize.
And then all I have is this burning feeling which is
The darkest.
Lost Girl Dec 2018
Trapped inside her mind.
There are a million different doors.
All of them are locked.
None of them can fix her catastrophic thoughts.  

Only she knew the extent of her limitations.
But she didn't want to disappoint, so she kept on doing more.
All these tasks pushed her past her breaking point.

Little did she know,
Kindness was the poison rooted deep inside in her mind.

All alone.
There she goes.
Watch her soul float away.
Now she no longer feels any pain.
Miss Saitwal Jul 2018
That workaholic lady who's always on call,
keeping up with the market fall.
That newly married lady with chunky red bangles,
returning to her father's big castles.

That person who's scared to get lapse,
so stays active on the google maps.
That person who swings like a kid at the back door,
Or the one who perform calisthenics on an empty floor.

That next door girl with a red lipstick,
flicking her shinny hair & gossiping with her clique,

That dreamer gazing outside the window,
That overworked soul dozing on his elbow.

That 21st century kid,
listening to Eminem & playing video games.
Or That 90’s kid,
listening to Jenga Boys & playing outdoor games.

That banker with a big fat stomach,
filled with his beautiful wife’s love.
That lady who eats like a thief,
in her big fat bag hiding a beef.

That old man who can’t stand Bombay's winding turns.
That granny spotting & criticing  every fashion trends.
That man who has Raju Rastogi’s concerns,
thinking & chanting for earns & returns.

Those kids who believe their job is to fill the voids in a battlefield,
in the still crowd surpassing like electrons into a magnetic field.

That lady sitting under cold seat like a glacial,
than standing with 7kgs in a crowded central,
& tryna stay sane listening to George Michael.

That geek who switchs from Linkedin to Arjun Reddy,
when the masses flee into the scenery.
That trader crunching numbers so rapidly,
when the stock prices go down hourly.

That person on the last seat,
diagressing from work & gazing around,
soaking in her pashmina, with a career newfound.
Isabelle Sep 2017
Tonight i'm so tired
That i let out a loooooonngg sigh
And let a tear fall
A haiku because im starting to reach my limit. Let it out, write it down.
Remi Leroy Apr 2017
Sheets of white piling up on my desk
Red alerts with red flags flooding my mail
The little ping, ping, ping of incoming messages from various correspondents
Demanding my attention

"You should learn to say no; stop doing everything by yourself."

Once, my insides would clench and I'd feel like I'd been
Kicked in the shin whenever I see something that reminds me of you
But now, search as I might, I can no longer see your face
Even down memory lane, you've vanished as suddenly as you did in reality

Other events flow like running water, with the clarity of a clear lake
Yet when I try to recall the words you said
It was as if a mischievous kid decided to mess with the tap
On; off. On... off. On... off. On; off.
A buffering in my mind like chopped up notes of a song when a video wouldn't load properly
1991. 9893. 0306. 162. 0341. Numbers are all I remember.
How did
Your smile look like?
How did your voice
Sound like?

I stare at the excel sheet I've been populating
I stare at the values I've been entering
One after another, work requests come
One after another, the traces of you go
Harsh unyielding sunset, buries me against the page.
I won't be lazing on a couch, left to rot and waste away.
Wormy plush Berber carpet soft against the afternoon.
Debts are pile high and the company picnic is this June.

The pages are vellum paper covered in ancient Egyptian script.
I've loved you methodically ever since we met inside that crypt.
The dregs brings me solemn hope that one day we'll breakthrough.
Works calling in on Sunday for some overtime that's overdue.

Its a 5 past 4 the glass lays arrhythmic, shattered at my feet.
We found each other down beside the casket of the diseased.
Heartfelt words never came out of a mouth that were so pure.
How could you take me for interesting, in life I'm just a bore.

Down. I've already ruined the letter meant from me to you.
Life is not a fairy tale to broker marriage for us two.
Bloodletting's an aphrodisiac to keep me at the brink.
Why'd I write this silly thing when I spilled my drink.
um. written with a friend. This poem is her fault.
Soeka laborde Oct 2016
I've never Skipped rocks
Nor made ripples in a pond
Never paid attention to the bees in the garden
Nor the ants marching in unison
Never stopped to smell the roses
Nor stick my toes in the sand
Never gazed at the sunrise
Never awed at the sunset
Nor have I ever been spellbound by the stars perfectly positioned in the heavens
Never went camping or pitched a tent
Never show my anger
But somehow I always vent
Now I look back in my haste
I wish to regain the time I've waste.
*©La Vida Love
Next page